


Hardknock Life

by dogtit



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Slice of Life AU, well as slice of life as 3 villains in a building can get
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-10-31 15:45:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10902441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogtit/pseuds/dogtit
Summary: Funds were no concern thanks to careful investments and patents, but she’d needed two more names on the lease. To Ivy’s lament, they’d needed to be human, and the building was justperfectfor laying low and nefarious scheming to let it go, so she’d swallowed a fraction of her pride (along with a wealth of dread) and reached out to, literally, the only two humans she had experience with.





	1. well the years start comin

**Author's Note:**

> not sure where this sits timeline wise as ive really only read dc bombshells and sirens all the way through, so just know that this au happens a great deal post sirens and leave it at that

This was the day she was going to look back on and hate for the rest of her life. 

Poison Ivy was sure of it as a plain white van thumping with muffled music reversed down the alley and stopped just outside the side door of the apartment building. Though the entire complex was empty, and in the middle of a dilapidated and poverty ridden section of downtown Gotham (so, in essence; Gotham, But Somehow Even More Shit), Ivy had persuaded her way into having it fall into her hands for a reasonable rent. Utilities and furnishings included. She would have simply fed the property owner to a plant or two, but he was under Oswald’s employ, and any self respecting supervillain needed to keep the Penguin on their good side. 

Or, at least, the side that would still get you into Iceberg Lounge. 

Funds were no concern thanks to careful investments and patents, but she’d needed two more names on the lease. To Ivy’s lament, they’d needed to be human, and the building was just _perfect_ for laying low and nefarious scheming to let it go, so she’d swallowed a fraction of her pride (along with a wealth of dread) and reached out to, literally, the only two humans she had experience with. 

Ivy leaned against the door frame as the van parked, and the music turned down. She waited as she heard muffled voices, a short argument, and then rocking movement. A pause, and she heard a man intone, “ _Some--_ ” 

The passenger side door flew open from a well timed kick as the rest of Smashmouth’s _All Star_ began to play at a rodent-skittering volume. Ivy put a hand to her head and dragged it down her face. For someone who had evolved and elevated herself beyond the concept of human emotions such as _regret_ , Ivy felt it so strongly. And considering its source, it was no wonder. 

Harley always had that effect on her. 

Punctuated by Steve Harwell singing, “ _I ain’t the sharpest tool in the shed,_ ” Harley flung herself from the van with a cackle, her comically oversized camper’s backpack clinking and clanging with pots, pans, and a bear trap clipped to the outside. She bounced over and leaped. Ivy’s arms moved on their own--she _swore_ it was just out of habit!--and caught her with a grunt, already lifting with her legs.

_What does that thing weigh?_ Ivy thought of the bag with a scowl.

“ _Bay-bee!_ “ Harley squealed, linking both arms around her neck and lifting her feet from the ground. Ivy growled in her throat and grit her teeth as she took on the dead weight of Harley and her stupid bag. 

“Harley,” Ivy greeted cooly, flatly. “Remember when I said this was supposed to be a _secret_ hideout? Blaring late nineties songs at full volume isn’t keeping it a secret.”

Harley was already giggling, shaking her head. “But the memes, Pam!” 

Ivy scoffed. Distantly, she thought to herself, _I’ve carried mulch bags heavier than this._ She could tell that Harley had lost substantial weight, and though she was free of injuries--well, _distinctive_ injuries--the spots beneath Harley’s eyes carried bruises, and her face was pale. Ivy was forced to remember how to worry. Her arms tightened out of it, and Ivy was silent as anxiety lingered in her throat like weed killer. 

Harley noticed. Her manic expression softened, and she mouthed, _I’m okay._ And though Ivy had been fed that lie time and time again, she merely nodded once and sighed through her nose.

The driver had already lowered the volume by the time the brief moment of tension faded--Harley had progressed into covering as much of Ivy’s apple green cheek with wet kisses (exaggerated ‘mwah’ noises included) when Selina Kyle strode around to lean against the double doors at the back of the vehicle, a smirk on her lips as she hauled the straps of her bulging tote bag over her shoulder. 

“Selina,” Ivy greeted cautiously. 

“Ivy,” Selina returned, a hitch of laughter in her voice. Ivy supposed it was hard to take her seriously when Harley was still hanging off of her, kicking her feet in the air like a child, slobbering kisses on her face.

“I didn’t expect you two to fit all your clothes in the back of that van,” Ivy noted.

“Oh, none of my shit’s inside that,” Selina said. “I’ve got movers coming in tomorrow.”

Ivy dropped her arms and Harley’s quick reflexes saved her knees from an intimate encounter with the concrete. A vein in her temple pulsed with her heart.

“Do either of you know what the word _secret_ means?!” Ivy hissed. 

Harley’s hand shot up in the air like a student attending class. “Oh! Ohh, oh oh, Red, pick me!” 

“Rhetorical, darling.”

“Aw,” Harley moaned. Then, stage whispering, added, “I was just gonna bullshit something anyway, I’m awful at pop quizzes.” 

“Relax, Ivy,” Selina said, holding both her hands up as if Ivy were wielding her vitriol like a gun. If only she could. “Oswald’s boys again. Paid for it and everything.” 

That got an impressed whistle from Harley, and a skeptical brow raise from Ivy. 

“Do you need to see the receipt,” Selina asked, deadpan. 

Ivy was half tempted to say yes, but it was two in the morning and she was exhausted from dealing with the two of them already. “I’ll string you up in vines and feed you to the Green if this backfires on me,” she said, but her heart wasn’t in it at all. 

“Melodramatic death threats, and we’ve only been reunited for what, ten minutes?” Selina’s grin was almost infectious. “I’m no psychiatrist, but I’d say that’s progress for us, Ives.” 

“I _am_ a psychiatrist, and I second that,” Harley snickered. 

“Ives,” Ivy repeated with disgust. “Good Gaia, no. Pick a different nickname.”

“Pam?”

Ivy nodded, satisfied. Then, curiosity struck. “If you don’t have any of your things, then...why the van?” 

Harley hauled her backpack off with a hoot and a holler, shoving it in Ivy’s arms. She did a cartwheel to the double doors and Selina took a healthy step back, looking sheepish. Ivy felt a spear of dread hit her as she set the bag against the wall. 

Harley flung open the doors, and a hyena clambered into her arms. 

“No,” Ivy said immediately. “Harley, _no._ I never agreed to having your--” she spat, “-- _pets_ here!” 

“Shoulda put that on the lease contract, then,” Selina said above the soft sounds of yips and whines as Harley was circled by her boys. As if to rub salt in Ivy’s wounds, Selina herself hopped into the back and came out with two pet carriers. “Cause I saw nothin’ about a no pet policy here, Pam.” 

“I thought that would have been--” Ivy pinched the bridge of her nose. Closed her eyes. Contemplated murder, half seriously, and discarded it in the same second. “Clearly, I expected too much from you both.” 

It was not in Ivy to resign herself to her fate so easily--she in fact abhorred the idea of such submission, however benign--but it was, again, two in the morning, and she’d never actually said to either of them to leave the animals out. And, really, who was she fooling? She knew what she was getting into. Selina Kyle practically came with two cats no matter who she was living with. Hell, the last time the three of them had been stuck under the same roof--

Pain lanced her head, her heart. _Not ready to dig into those memories, I think._

She could yell in the morning, Ivy rationalized with herself. If only to keep up appearances. 

“I do not want to see them,” Ivy began, voice crisp. “I do not want to hear them. I do not want to acknowledge their existence unless absolutely necessary. They are _your_ responsibilities. And I am not--listen good, Harley--I am not picking up any droppings of any kind.”

“No-go on the poop, gotcha, Red,” Harley said, snapping a salute. 

“At ease,” Ivy said dryly. “Come on, then. Pick out your rooms. You can make your keys later.”

Selina came forward first, as Harley hopped back into the van’s open back. “You have running water, right?”

“Of course. Why?” 

“Get Harley a bath,” Selina said, pleading thick in her voice. “She reeks like the outside and it’s _bad._ ” 

“Oh?” 

But Selina did not elaborate as she entered the building. Harley’s hyenas followed, but they were much more...subdued than normal. Their fur was thinner, and Ivy could recognize the one Harley called Bud moved with a limp. It was subtle enough, but almost as alarming as Harley’s weight. Ivy watched them vanish into the dark, and only turned when she heard the back doors of the van shut. 

Harley had a bag of catfood balanced on each shoulder, was whistling to the chorus of _All Star_. Ivy picked up the camping bag, and followed Harley inside; Harley got five feet before she set the bags of catfood down with a heavy thud, rolling her bony shoulders. 

Ivy watched her move. Harley had always been fit, but now it seemed less...healthy. She was stringy, Ivy realized. Thin as a reed. Ivy set down the bag again and approached as she heard Selina shuffling from a floor above, doors opening and closing. She put a hand on Harley’s shoulder; flinched as she did, drawing the hand away. 

“Aw, Red, sorry--” Harley felt as if she had to make up for the slight by wrapping Ivy back into a too-warm hug, resting her cheek against Ivy’s shoulder. “Force of habit, I guess.” 

Ivy hugged her back, and lowered her nose to rest against Harley’s hair. She took a breath, and shuddered. 

Underneath the tang of dry shampoo, Harley smelled like green, growing things. Untamed grass and oaks, shrubbery. Like...Robinson Park? 

“Where have you been, Harley girl?” Ivy murmured, still taking small little sniffs as she moved down from Harley’s hair to her neck. Here she smelled like cheap, cheap soap and cold water; clean sweat, deodorant. Her clothes, admittedly, were less appealing but Ivy could feel soil under her palms, ground into Harley’s shirt.

“S’long story, Red,” Harley said, her voice softer than ever before. “But I left him. I did.” 

Ivy tensed, a Pavlovian reaction to the words and what followed; _I left him, Red, for good this time! And then weeks later, the opposite. He needs me. Needs me._

Ivy was no stranger to cycles. It was how Nature operated. She’d been caught in one with Harley since they met, tearing each other apart under the surface while trying to make it work outside. It would have lasted forever, Ivy knew. So Ivy had left Gotham for a year, maybe two, until she couldn’t stand the worry of coming back to Harley’s corpse. Instead, she came back to distance, sprawling like an abyss, between them. 

Harley had never come back to her with a man’s hands bruised into her neck since, but that didn’t mean it didn’t continue.

Harley waited until Ivy probed. “Did you? Did you really, Harley?” But they weren’t full of scorn, like she’d wanted them to be. The words were tired; Ivy was tired. It had been a long day. 

“Yeah. I saw--I dunno when it clicked.” Harley swallowed. “But--y’know, how if you quit cold turkey, you can relapse easier? I figured out that it was kinda like that. Just, worse. So I...weaned myself off. Got away for a while. Moved out, but I didn’t wanna...drag you back in.” 

Ivy swallowed. Or tried to. Her mouth was dry. 

“I’ve been a real pain in the ass for you, huh?” Harley’s voice quivered. “That’s all I could think about. _What kinda shit you been pullin’ your pals through, Quinn?_ It’s why I didn’t...go to you. Cause we’ve been stuck in a rut, you and me. And it’s been shit for both of us.” 

Ivy’s heart raced and she cleared her throat. “I’ve been cruel to you too, Harl.” Her voice was ragged. “I am...a cruel person, by nature. I make no excuses.” She pressed her cheek against Harley’s, and shook like a sapling in a storm. “I have been...I _can_ be so, so cruel. Sometimes I wanted to.”

“But most times,” Harley whispered, “Most times you didn’t. And the times you did, I can’t blame you.”

Bile rose in her throat. “Harley--”

“No, no, not--!” Harley panicked. “Not like I thought ‘oh, well, this might as well happen’ but like! Cause, I was _bad_ to you. I used you.” 

Ivy closed her eyes. Braced herself. 

“I used your trust against you. Time an’ time again. ‘Course you lashed out, Pam; it’s how humans work.” Harley sagged against her. “I always called you my friend, but I don’t think I ever acted like one. Not one you deserved.”

Ivy smiled bitterly. “The same can be said for me.” 

“Yeah,” Harley agreed, and they both shared a laugh; watery, weak, wounded. “Anyway, me an’ the boys’ve just kinda been...crashing in your park. Hope you don’t mind?” 

It explained the smell. Ivy shook her head. “You stayed out there? All alone?” 

“I had the boys!” Harley protested. “But...I was gettin’ a little worried. Bud’s been limpin’ since we left him.”

“I’ll see what I can give Bud,” Ivy told her. “But you need a bath, and sleep.”

Harley looked down at her feet, then stepped back. “We...sleepin’ separate?” 

Ivy breathed in, then out. It hurt her to say the words, “I think it’s for the best.” Harley nodded, shoulders limp, but when she picked up her head to meet Ivy’s eyes she was smiling; small, gentle. Real. 

“Okay,” Harley said. She reached out her hand; Ivy took it, held it. This, Ivy recognized, was a divergence from the cycle. They were moving forward, instead of around. And it was scary, and her stomach churned, and she felt more human than she had in literal years, and she had this silly, stupid girl to blame.

And all Ivy could say was, “Okay.”


	2. stockings ripped all up the side

Ivy did not sleep. 

It was hard to do so when she could feel _others_ around her. She knew she was being ridiculous. It wasn’t like they were even close to her, not really. Selina was in 214 and Harley had camped out in 130; Ivy had chosen the last room on the top floor closest to the roof access. And she didn’t have any plants in their rooms, so her children couldn’t whisper about Harley or Selina’s secrets, filling her head with them all the time. 

Maybe that was the problem. Maybe she _needed_ to keep an eye on them. But the chances of either of them accepting a ‘welcome home’ gift in the form of plants was laughably low. Ivy thought about sneaking a few vines around Selina’s balcony, though. Maybe a creeper against the window frame of Harley’s kitchen. Little things, things that could get sun and rain and didn’t need either of them to participate…

Ivy paced. She sat on the sofa, stared at the dark screen of the television. Gnawed at the knuckle of her thumb with sharp teeth. 

_Why did I reach out?_ Ivy pulled her knees to her chest, watched the muted and warped reflection in the tv do the same. _Why did they agree? What are they doing here?_

What were their goals, their motivations? Harley wanted to at least start anew (maybe? Possibly? Was that an apology? Was Ivy supposed to accept it as one? Did she?), but she hadn’t parted with Selina on any sort of friendly terms, or anything that inspired a future relationship. 

But there Selina was. Grinning at her, joking, poking fun, as if they hadn’t been ready to kill each other (for a bat, for a punchline) so long ago. 

Ivy had reached out as a last resort. She was still confused that they’d responded. Was it all water under the bridge? Ivy could nurse a grudge against them both for the rest of her life, but grudges were for humans and she was _above that._ Her cheek was still damp from Harley’s kisses, and her arms keenly recalled the shape of Harley’s ribs slotting against them. 

Nausea roiled inside of her. Ivy tasted acid and pulled her hand away from her mouth with a frown. She’d bitten too hard; blood slowly oozed, black in murky pre-dawn gloom that tried to pierce her curtains. Disgust raced through her; if she held it up in the light, would it be red? Or toxic green. 

_Toxic._ And then the disgust roiled in on itself, burning into fear like match struck to oil. 

Was Harley still immune? 

Of course she is, Ivy thought at once, arrogantly. She’d made the vaccine specifically so that Harley couldn’t be hurt by her poisons. She’d worked three nights straight making sure it was all fine. 

But it had been years--how many, even? Two? Three? Time meant so little when she’d been in the Amazon, lost in the soil and the leaves, thrust in so deep that she’d forgotten what she was until she’d run into loggers cutting down acres for farming. 

It could have worn off. Harley had kissed her skin. 

_No. No, please, no._

She lunged from the sofa and almost broke down her own door, breath catching and sticking in her throat like a fly in sap. Her hands shook, palms clammy with cold sweat, but she managed to open the door and flew from the room. She jumped down the stairs two at a time, mind flying with formulas, discarding ideas, discarding _rationality_ and latching onto the worst case scenarios. 

She hadn’t been concentrating any kind of poisons--consciously. But subconsciously, always subconsciously, she was wary of the two of them. Ready for them to rip her out by the roots and toss her aside. Her body was tuned into that panic, that fear; maybe once Harley had started to kiss her cheek, her body had simply reacted the only way it knew how. 

Ivy tripped on the last step, landing on her knees against the hardwood. She could barely feel it, so acute was her panic. She heard noises above her; she ignored them, pounding down the hallway until she was skidding to a halt in front of Harley’s door. 

Harley could be dead already. Harley could be fine. Harley could be writhing in pain as Ivy’s poison coursed through her. She hadn’t had the time to set up a lab; she couldn’t make an antidote. 

“Fuck,” she rasped, then slapped her open palm on the door. “Harley!” 

There was no response. 

“ _Harley!_ ” Ivy tried again, her voice raised. “Harley, open the door! O-Open this door right _now_ , Quinn!” Her hand balled into a fist, and she slammed it against the wood. Her bloodied knuckle left dark smears against the grain. 

She pulled her arm back, about to hit the door again, when it opened for her. Harley wore a bed sheet--one provided by Ivy when she realized that Harley had only the damn camping back left to her name--like a toga, sloppily tied. Her hair was still slightly damp and mussed from a shower, and her eyes bleary from sleep. 

“Holy shit, Red, I can’t have pissed you off _that_ bad,” Harley said around a yawn. “It hasn’t even been six hours yet!” 

Ivy wheezed for breath, the blood in her ears rushing so fast that it took her a moment to process Harley’s words. “Are you okay? Do you feel feverish? Nauseated? Does your throat itch, are you experiencing any swelling, I--”

“Pam,” Harley tried, raising a hand for her. “Pam, I’m _fine_ , babe, I’m okay? Sleepy but okay--”

Ivy ducked away from her hand. “Don’t touch me! You might not be immune anymore!” 

“What?” Harley clasped her hand to her chest, eyes wide. But she didn’t look frightened, and as the panic started to release her from its death grip, Ivy could see that she looked...fine. Tired, hungry, thin, sad; but not dying. “Red, what’re you talkin’ about?”

“I thought...when you kissed my cheek…” Ivy felt her words stumbling together, cluttering in her mouth. She was humiliated, and relieved. She’d never been happier to be proven wrong; and then, proven right. Harley was still immune, Ivy hadn’t killed her, she was still alive. 

In celebration, Ivy promptly turned, doubled over, and threw up all over the floor.

When Ivy opened her eyes next, she was staring at a ceiling that was not her own, in a bed that was missing half its sheets, and there was a cold, damp towel on her forehead. And a rotten taste in her mouth. Ivy closed her eyes and scowled, feeling her blood boil in fury at herself. Thorns prickled from her skin like goosebumps, and it took effort to draw them back as she heard footsteps, voices. 

“...passed out right on me,” Harley said, her voice low and thin. Ivy imagined she was wringing her hands, and the rancid roil of her stomach returned. “I’ve never seen Pammy that scared. Ever. I was freakin’ out, Kitty.” 

Ivy forced herself to remain still, ears burning, straining for...something. She wanted to hear something, but what, Ivy didn’t know. Couldn’t know, after so long. 

“Hey, hey.” Selina. “Don’t worry too much, kitten. Ivy’s a fighter.” 

“She was worried I wouldn’t be immune to her.” Ivy felt the bed dip a little as Harley sat on the edge. She took the cold rag off of Ivy’s head, and dabbed her neck, her jaw. Ivy trembled, and then a blanket was draped over her. “I shoulda been worried about that too,” she heard Harley confess. “I was just...so...so happy to see her again. If I hadn’t been at your place when she called, I…” 

“We would have found you, Harl.” Selina’s weight was a little more substantial a dip. Ivy felt a hand touch her knee, squeezing; hidden, her hands clawed against the sheets. Chills raised more thorns against the back of her neck, and Ivy wondered if they could see her pulse throbbing.

Wondered if they knew that she could kill them in an instant with the thick barbs budding against her palms. Wondered if they could sense that one wrong move from them, one moment where they would seize on her vulnerability, could make them spill red. 

Harley was quiet. So quiet. “She sounded mad,” she finally spoke, voice a small crack in the glass wall of silence. “I was--I hid. From her. When she was knocking on the door, she was yellin’, and it made me...remember…” 

Shifting. Selina was no doubt drawing Harley into a hug, and Ivy heard a little sniffle. She opened her eyes and confirmed it; Harley was dressed in one of Selina’s t-shirts, one purposefully bought a size too big for ultimate comfort. It made Harley look all the smaller, especially with her face pressed against Selina’s shoulder, body turned away from Ivy. 

Selina looked over. Caught her eyes. Stroked Harley’s hair, and said, “Oh, kitten. Ivy would never hurt you. Not like that.” 

And Ivy realized she wasn’t trying to just convince Harley. She was reaching out to Ivy, too. Reassuring her. Ivy’s instinctive thought was of how stupid Selina could be; she didn’t know Ivy, she had no idea who and what Ivy was. But the second thought was of a quiet, mystified gratitude. Ivy couldn’t stand it, and looked away. 

“Oh, you’re up,” Selina said after a moment, giving Ivy time to prepare for Harley and her fussing. Harley turned and her eyes--red, irritated, underscored with sleepless bags--turned onto Ivy next. 

“Pam,” Harley croaked. 

“I…” Ivy weighed the words on her tongue, trying to find the way to make them click together, to make them mean something again. She tried to say something like, _I’m sorry for making you afraid. I’m sorry for reminding you of him. I’m sorry, for making you believe for an instant that I’d ever want to hurt you._

Instead, she said, “I’m sorry for throwing up in front of you.”

Selina mouthed _wow_ behind Harley’s head. Ivy lifted a hand from beneath the sheets, and pretending to rub at a temple, flipped her off. 

“Girl, I’ve seen worse than a little poison vom,” Harley said, waving off her apology. Her face grew serious, and she added, “Kind of spooked me that it ate through the floor, but I mean, I figured that was just an Ivy thing.”

“It did what?!” Ivy sat up, seconds from throwing off the sheets before Harley slung her arms around her again, keeping her still. She stilled from the contact and her face twisted in a grimace. In the daylight, and after being so _raw_ , she didn’t want anyone to touch her, not even Harley. Harley’s skin was probably soft, but it felt like sandpaper on her nerves, made her cells shriek. 

“Joking! Red, I was joking!” Harley backed off soon after, hand raised to pet her hair. Selina caught it before it could touch, tugged Harley away with a false laugh. 

“C’mon, kitten, let her get her bearings. You need to help me unpack, and then I need to see what clothes you still have.” 

“Okay, okay, I’m goin’! Yeesh!” 

Selina ushered Harley out of the room, turning at the last minute. Another silent check in; Ivy pursed her lips, and nodded. She heard the two of them trudging up the stairs, no doubt to Selina’s apartment, leaving Ivy alone and staring down at the bedsheets. Harley had left the damp rag, and soon it became quiet. 

This, Ivy thought, was inexcusable. A weakness that could not, and _would_ not be repeated. She couldn’t afford it, not with either of them. She swung her legs out from the bed, chanced standing up on her own. She was relieved to find she could stand under her own power, and she left Harley’s bedroom and her space quickly. 

She took the stairs fast, eager to rinse her mouth and brush her teeth. Once she was back in the apartment, she threw open the curtains to allow the mid morning sun to flood in. It was tempting to simply soak it in, but hygeine took priority. She went through the motions, rinsed and spat last night’s evidence into the sink, and looked up. 

Green skin. Green eyes. The only other color to break up the monotony was her hair, which Ivy didn’t take that much pride in. Everyone went wild for it; a simple toss had most men under her spell _before_ the pheromones. Even after last night it was still glossy, healthy, and beautiful. 

Her fingers dug into the porcelain. She wanted to chop it all off. 

But Ivy didn’t. She was not a creature of impulse anymore. Her hair was important to her aesthetic; that’s all that mattered, in the end. Who cared if it was poison, so long as it was pretty.

She shed the one piece suit of vines and leaves, gathering them up and placing them in the soil of the dozens of potted plants she’d brought in. There were some benefits to moving in a few days early, after all. Naked, soaking in the sunlight, she quietly filled a small, plastic watering can and moved from room to room. Then she went back with a little mister, careful of the more delicate specimens. 

She whispered to them, watched the green of their leaves and stems deepen with each word. Sometimes it was nonsense, generic encouragement; sometimes Ivy whispered her secrets. 

The ones she still held were too vicious for her babies, though. They were better off not knowing the deepest corners of herself. 

An hour had passed before there was a knock on her door; Ivy answered it, and only realized a second later that she had nothing on. Harley and Selina stood just outside and both of their smiles were knocked off their faces. Selina wrenched her head back so fast Ivy swore she heard her neck crick, and Harley’s pale face went beet red. Ivy’s sense of modesty had been lost long before her move to the forests, but she was still recovering from the sensory assault of the morning.

She wanted to lick her wounds and water her plants in peace, dammit. 

“Can I help you?”

Harley’s eyes snapped up to meet her own, and she clasped both hands behind her back. She wore a black shirt--freshly washed, from what Ivy could tell--and jean shorts that were more holes than fabric. Selina was sharply dressed in a skirt and blouse--dark purple and black, respectively--and a thought snagged her attention.

“Your movers were already here?” 

“Yup,” Selina confirmed, popping the p as she continued to inspect the ceiling diligently. “Kept them through the front, didn’t let them farther than my apartment. They never even knew you were here. Now, get dressed, loser, we’re going shopping.”

“No thank you,” Ivy said quickly.

“C’mon, Red!” Harley brought her clasped hands over her head to rest beneath her chin without releasing them; a trick that had gotten them both out of cuffs time and time again. “Pretty please? Selina needs new bras and I need some new...everything. You can get some new stuff, too! Moneybags is paying!” 

“Tell me Bruce Wayne doesn’t know you’re living here now,” Ivy hissed to Selina. 

“Pfft, hell no,” Selina said, finally looking down to meet Ivy eye to eye. She reached into her bag and pulled out three plastic cards, fanning them out in her fingers like she was playing poker. “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Frankly, in my humble opinion, he could do with a lot less money. Think of his bank account! It’s bloated, Pam. We gotta put it on a diet.”

“Nothing like a little retail therapy, eh? _Ehhh?_ ” Harley cajoled, bouncing her eyebrows. 

Ivy crossed her arms, and thought about it. Part of her wanted to go to the roof, work more on the gardens up above, sing them to life and curl in the soil and sun. The rest of her was caught by the prospect of stealing from Bruce Wayne again, but with a few less bats this time. She didn’t need anything in the way of casual wear, but she _could_ do with some science equipment...assuming Gotham’s black market took credit. 

“Fine,” Ivy said. Vines curled over her shoulders, leaves whispering into delicate creation. She coaxed out a dress with a plunging neckline, in case of sweet talking, and bluntly declared, “Ready.”

“That’s so fucking cool,” Selina said, and Ivy would be damned if she didn’t preen just a _little_ bit. “But uh, could you at least put on a bra? And some shoes, maybe.” 

“I don’t need a bra, Selina.” Ivy smirked. “You know this.”

“Yeaaah, no bra club!” Harley held up a hand. Ivy studied it for a second, then met it halfway with a satisfying clap as she accepted the high five. Harley grinned big and wide after contact was made, eyes glittering as she snickered under her breath. It actually made Ivy smile a little too, though she didn’t laugh.

“I hate you both,” Selina declared. “Come on, nature parade, I’ve got some sandals you can borrow. We’re about the same foot size.”

“If I must,” Ivy sighed, gathering her keys off the little hook by the door, and wandered back into her bedroom to snag a tube of lipstick--the regular fare, this time. She slid both into the skirt of the dress, feeling the little vines and tendrils wrapping around them snugly and seamlessly. 

“Pockets dress! Nice,” Harley complemented, offering another high five. Confused, Ivy thanked her and returned the gesture again. Harley skipped down the hall, calling out, “Race you to the car, slowpokes!” 

“How does she have so much energy,” Ivy wondered out loud. “You could power half of Gotham if it ran on whatever she runs on.”

“Crazy kid,” Selina agreed. “Literally, even. Let’s get you some footwear. You’re gonna stop being green before we head out, right?”

“I--” She’d nearly forgotten, and with a bit of concentration, flushed the green out of her epidermis while making sure not to look at her arms, or any part of her skin she could help. _Keep calm. Keep calm. You’ve done this a hundred thousand times._ “Better?”

“Much. It won’t get us caught, Miss Do You Know What The Word Secret Means?” Selina mocked, lips curled to show that she meant it in jest. 

“That’s _Doctor_ Do You Know What The Word Secret Means,” Ivy corrected, playing along once she figured out the joke. 

Selina ducked into her apartment while Ivy waited outside, staring straight ahead, running her fingers along the subtly raised lines against her skin where her vines sat just underneath, thrumming with energy from the Green. The white flats Selina handed her were simple, easy to discard. Ivy toed into them, forced to look down at pale legs, the vines marked like tattoos curled against her skin.

They were out soon after, Ivy locking up behind them. In the parking space just in front of the building sat a shiny, black Mustang convertible, top down. Harley was already sprawled in the backseat. 

“C’moooon!” she hollered once she saw Ivy and Selina. “Hurry, hurry, hurry! You guys take forever!”

Selina vaulted into the driver’s seat, instead of just opening the door like a regular person. Always one for theatrics, that Catwoman. Ivy rolled her eyes as she buckled herself in, then turned around in her seat. 

“Seatbelts,” Ivy reminded Harley. 

“Aw, but seatbelts are for chumps, Red!”

“‘Are you calling me a chump, Harley?” 

“Maybe a little!” Harley cackled. “You didn’t even respond to the _Mean Girls_ reference!” 

Ivy squinted. The title did not ring familiar, and she could only assume it was a movie. Her silence and confused expression tipped off both of the other women in the car, and Selina and Harley shared a look. Ivy couldn’t tell what kind of look it was, but it made her press against the door out of sheer instinct. 

“Have you never seen _Mean Girls_ , Ivy?” Selina asked her, incredulous. 

“I...no?”

“That’s so not fetch,” Harley whispered. 

“Stop trying to make fetch happen!” Selina snapped, pulling down the emergency brake, shifting into reverse and easing the Mustang out of the parking spot. “It’s just not going to happen.”

“This is--what?” Ivy looked between the two of them. “I don’t--what does that even mean?”

“We’ll have a movie night, get you caught up,” Selina assured her, shifting into first, then second gear, the car purring as she guided it down the street. Harley reached between the seats, offering the prong of an AUX cord. Ivy took it and plugged it in while Selina pressed a control on the steering wheel, turning the radio on and adjusting the volume. The first few notes of a synth made Ivy blink, and Selina burst into a laugh. 

“ _Hot and dangerous,_ ” Harley sang just over Ivy’s shoulder, startling her a little. “ _If you’re one of us, then roll with us!_ ” 

“ _Cause we make the hipsters fall in love,_ ” Selina joined in, bobbing her head in time with the beat. “ _When we got our hotpants--_ shit, what’s she say here, I don’t--”

Harley interrupted her with more singing, drumming her fingers against Ivy’s seat with each word. Ivy reached over to the drink holder, where Harley had put her iPod, and gently touched the middle button. The screen lit up, showing the title; _We R Who We R_. Very much a Harley song, Ivy thought to herself. 

“Oh, Ke$ha. I thought I recognized that voice.” Ivy set the iPod back, found her fingers knocking against her knee in time. Selina noticed, shifted into fourth gear, and made for the highway. 

“Come on, Pam. Dance in your seat.” 

Ivy scowled. “I don’t dance.” She looked into the passenger mirror, found that she could see Harley mouthing the lyrics while attempting to do a hip roll and failing. How Harley couldn’t manage that when she could fit both legs behind her head, Ivy would never know. “Harley can dance for two.” 

“Harley can’t dance for shit!” Selina laughed. 

“Fuck you!” Harley reached over, slapped Selina’s arm with an ear to ear grin. Ivy’s pulse climbed faster at the sight, but with happiness. She started to sweat, but not with fear. Even though Selina had made it to the highway, shifting into fifth and accelerated to get the wind whipping, roaring around her, Ivy didn’t feel trapped. 

Hurtling down the street, creeping on sixty miles an hour, Ivy felt... 

She felt good. And she supposed that was progress, however small.

“I’m switichin’ songs cause you bitches ain’t dancin’,” Harley complained, pressing skip on the iPod. 

Ivy and Selina shared a laugh as the next song played. The guitar that started made Ivy blink and she sat forward a little, as if that would help her remember better.

“ _She comes on like a rose, but everybody knows. She’ll get you in Dutch...you can look, but you better not touch!_ ”

It was like being sent back in time. Pamela remembered where she’d heard the song in an instant, the grainy record playing for her father’s 48th birthday. She’d been locked in her room, told to be quiet--after all, a man’s party wasn’t a place for a little girl--and listening to the music lifting up from her floor. She’d heard laughter, something rare in the house, and even though she was all alone in her room she’d felt hopeful that this was a sign. A sign that things would start to get...better.

It hadn’t been a sign of that nature, but the memory was still one of the rare few she held close. 

Ivy turned in her seat to smirk at Harley as the chorus began; “ _Poison Ivy! Poison Ivy!_ ”

Harley grinned sheepishly at her, shoulders lifting in a shrug as Selina started to guffaw from the driver’s seat, turning up the volume.

“If I still had my phone, this would be ya ringer!” Harley shouted above the music.

“Really, Harl? A song about a woman with an STD? That’s what you’d associate me with?” Ivy teased, pushing back her hair as the wind whipped it around. 

Selina’s laughter started to worsen as Harley’s face went pale, and she quickly hit skip. Ivy had started to laugh too, reaching out--on her own--to put her hand over Harley’s. Harley looked up at her, and their eyes caught; Ivy felt her heart ache at the soft light in them, the hope. 

“Thank you,” Ivy said, “for helping me last night. I’m...s-sorry,” she stumbled over the word, “for worrying you.” 

Harley hesitated, before moving to cover her hand. Ivy didn’t flinch at the touch, having seen it coming. 

“S’my job, Red,” Harley told her. “We’re bffsies for life and beyond. We look out for each other.” 

Selina was quiet, focused on the road, but Ivy sensed a smile. Ivy couldn’t ignore her, not completely, but she looked over and hoped she was in the cat’s periphery vision as she said, “We sure do, daffodil.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an early update a) because i had it and b) i will be out of town on sunday!!!


End file.
